The young woman blushed bright red to match the top she wore. She cleaned the wound with alcohol wipes that Vi didn’t even know she owned, dressed it with some gauze, and secured the whole thing with enough tape to hold it together until the end of time.
Her sickeningly sweet and innocent smile made Vi’s stomach turn.
“There is that better?”
Vi nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere? As in, not here?”
Had the girl always been this annoying? No, there’d been a time when Vi had enjoyed her energetic spirit. The pain made her see the world through a different lens, one that twisted distorted everything. A part of her wondered if she could ever get back to her somewhat hopeful self. Or at least be able to fake some cheerfulness when needed.
Ligia twisted the ends of the gauze roll, avoiding her gaze. “You should know that Brooke doesn’t know I’m here. I… I kind of stood her up tonight.”
Vi chuckled. “Yeah, right.”
Ligia set her supplies down on the littered coffee table. “No, really. She doesn’t know I missed it on purpose. I just couldn’t… Oh, never mind.”
Vi sighed rather than press the girl further. “What do you want, Ligia?”
“I just want to be able to help you. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened.” To her credit, she did appear sincere.
Why does Ligia think it is her fault? Is that why she has been stopping by so often?
Vi sighed. “Hon, this is Brooke’s fault. Not yours—”
“No, if I hadn’t gone out back with that creep, then...” She choked back a sob. “You see? It’s all my fault.”
Vi reached out with her good arm and wrapped it around the girl, who was now bawling.
“You didn’t know.” She smoothed back the hair from the girl’s face.
“I can’t stop thinking of that awful night. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat.” Ligia pulled away from Vi to meet her gaze. “Do you have nightmares too?”
Vi nodded. “Every night.”
“When will they go away?” Ligia asked hardly above a whisper.
There was a time when she would have lied to her just to make her feel better, but the incident had changed Vi in a way she wasn’t quite so sure she liked. There would be no more hiding from the hard truths of the world. “I don’t know. I guess eventually over time they will lessen, but maybe we will carry it with us forever. For better or worse, what happened is a part of us now.”
The young girl's face suddenly looked older. “I think I know what you mean,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “It’s not like I haven’t seen violence before. I mean, I grew up in Rio. My uncle was shot and killed in a crossfire a few years ago. This though… I don’t know. It’s different.”
Vi nodded. “Yeah.”
Beethoven's ninth symphony started to play from Vi’s phone—her ringtone for Joy. “I’d better get that. It’s my sister.”
Ligia handed Vi the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Vi this is Kim. We’re taking your sister to the hospital. She’s having another asthma attack, and we can’t get it under control with her medication. Can you meet us there?”
Vi’s heart thundered in her chest. The adrenaline coursing through her made her briefly forget about her pain. “Yes. Are you taking her to Herald General?”
“Yes, please hurry. She’s not doing so well. She needs you, Vi.”
She swallowed back the ball of emotions that threatened to choke her. She couldn’t lose her Joy! “I’ll be right there.” She ended the call and met Ligia’s worried gaze. “Can you give me a ride to the ER?” She asked between strangled sobs. “M-m-my sister is having an asthma attack.”
Ligia grabbed her purse and keys. “Of course! Let’s go.”
For the first time in weeks, Vi made the sign of the cross and said a quick prayer of intercession to the Virgin Mary. If she lost Joy, then she would lose everything.
Chapter Thirteen
Brooke
Brooke sat all alone in the dark house with only the glow of her computer to keep her company. The vet had kept Princess Tiara overnight for observation after the whole psycho rat poisoning thing. Brian was on his business trip and not answering the phone, and Ligia still hadn’t turned up after ditching the orientation for her own class, the one she was supposed to be teaching.
She had to stop herself from swinging by Jesse’s and asking for a steaming mug of the Abrahamson family’s special mulled wine drink. Not just because she was pregnant, but also because she wasn’t sure she could trust her feelings for Jesse.
Lately, she thought about him all the time, and not just because his texts were often the only bright spot in her otherwise dull days. Did he think about her? Did he know he was the only person in her life who hadn’t let her down time and time again? Even when she rejected his offers for company, he still found a way to take care of her. He knew what she needed, while her own husband didn’t even care.
Like the time he’d swung by with a copy of Finding Nemo on Blu-Ray and a giant tub of Rocky Road—just because he needed a little company, he’d said. But Brooke knew better. He’d watched that movie a thousand times with his girls, so much so that he knew practically every line of dialogue in the entire film. No, this had been his way to remind her of her mantra, just keep swimming—but also that he had her back should she need to float for a while.
Add to that the fact that Vi continued to evade her overtures, and Brooke found herself running toward Jesse at every opportunity. After all, with the crazy manic hours Heather worked, and the girls’ early bedtimes, Jesse found himself alone all too often as well. They needed each other. They should...
But, no, she couldn’t. Could she…?
She picked up her iPhone and opened the call history. He was alone. She was alone. So what was the shame in being alone together?
She pressed the green call button just as the back door swung open. It took everything she had to act casual as she ended the call—thankfully before the first ring—and turned toward… Ligia. Ugh, of course.
I guess this means I’m not alone anymore. No, now she had her teenaged goddaughter and the rage that flew through her veins to keep her company. Nobody stood up Brooke Frances Fischer and got away with it.
“Liggy!” she shouted, standing up with one hand on her hip. “Do you know what time it is?”
Ligia shrugged and dropped her Coach bag on the floor. “Yeah, it’s two, and, honestly, Auntie B, I’m not in the mood for another lecture right now. It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed. Nighty night.”
Brooke raced toward the stairs to block Ligia’s path. “It’s been a long day, huh? Is that why you stood up your class? Is that why I didn’t see or hear from you all day? I could’ve really used your help tending to your business, and guess what else? Tiara almost died tonight. Which you’d know if you’d answered any of my texts! Honestly, Ligia, I thought we were close. I thought you looked up to me. Why have you been so irresponsible and rude ever since moving in here?”
“Tiara almost died?” she asked, her voice small. “But she didn’t, right? It’s sad, Auntie B, but you know what? People die, whether we like it or not. And it sucks every single time. At least you didn’t have to… Never mind. Tiara is just a dog.”
Brooke softened despite the barbs Ligia flung her way. “Liggy, what’s wrong? Is this about… about that night?”
“No… Yes… Maybe. You know, Vi’s sister almost died today. So that’s where I’ve been the last few hours, at the hospital helping Vi keep it together. Because it’s not like you were there for her. So spare me the lecture, and let me go to bed. I need my beauty rest, and so do you.”
Brooke wanted to scream at Ligia for being so disrespectful, but she also wanted to burst out in tears and ask after poor Joy. Joy had been a victim in all this just as much as either Vi or Brooke, maybe even more. If only she would talk about the impact it had on her instead of constantly changi
ng the subject or running away. Since yelling at Ligia was getting her nowhere, so she took a slow, measured breath…
“Liggy, I love you. You know that, right? Thank you for being there for Vi tonight. That was really sweet of you to help, but you missed our meeting in Austin. The Texas and Tiaras orientation was today, or did you forget? You were so excited about starting your own business. Don’t you want to do it anymore?”
“Of course, I do. I just… had other things to do, that’s all. I honestly forgot all about it, and I am sorry. The thing with the hospital took all day. They took forever to get her in, and it was all really scary. It brought back memories of… never mind. Anyway… I still got a lot done with the business before any of that happened.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall. “Look, if I sit with you and plan the charity event for the next hour or something, will you ease off on all the questions? I would have been there if I could, okay? But I don’t really feel like discussing it after the day I’ve had.”
“I don’t mean to keep you up, but I really could use the help. I feel like I’m drowning here trying to keep both Parties by Brooke and Texas and Tiaras afloat.”
“Drowning?” She laughed for the first time since this whole exchanged had started. “Aren’t you always the one quoting that ridiculous cartoon fish? Just keep swimming, right? Well, c’mon. Let’s go for a swim.”
Brooke smiled and wrapped her goddaughter in her arms. “This is the you I’ve missed, honey. I’m sorry if I’ve been hard to live with lately. It’s just…”
“What?”
“Forget it.”
Ligia shrugged. “Suit yourself. The sooner we can get down to business, the sooner I can go to bed.” She burst out an over exaggerated yawn to prove her point. “Should we do this over some vodka cranberry spritzers?”
“No!”
Ligia regarded Brooke with a quizzical expression.
“I mean… we’re already both so tired. If we wind up drunk too, we’ll never get any work done.”
Ligia laughed. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll just have one drink, m’kay?”
Brooke pulled out her MacBook and found that she had at least two hundred unread messages in her Gmail.
“Ligia, do you have any girlfriends who might be looking for some part time work?” she muttered while scrolling and sorting each new electronic missive.
“What’s that?” Ligia sat down across from Brooke at the table with a cocktail in one hand and her iPad in the other.
“I just really need some more help. I’m feeling so overwhelmed these days,” she explained, feeling the sudden need to apologize for being too weak to keep up with it all.
“You don’t need to hire somebody, Auntie B. I’ll help more, promise. Look.” She pushed her iPad across the table to show off the list she’d been building in the Notes app.
“I may not be around a lot, but, believe me, I’m working. See?” She pointed to one of the bullet points. “I’ve already gotten twelve confirmed volunteers for the big Halloween event. Here are their names.” She swiped to bring up a list of contacts in a different app, then she paged to her calendar. “These are all the appointments I have to meet with vendors and suppliers. I’m even meeting with a handful of local boutiques to secure donations for the fashion show, and telling the girls to donate what they would have spent on their costumes—oh, it will be costumes instead of gowns, because we’ll get a much bigger draw if we do this on Halloween—but with the donated costumes, the shelter will get even more money and our event will be an even bigger success. Smart, right?”
“Liggy, that’s brilliant.”
Ligia snorted and tilted her head to the side with a grin. “Yeah. I may act like an airhead, but I pay attention and get my work done. If you’re that cartoon fish, then I’m a shark.” She chomped her teeth and laughed.
Brooke laughed too, and it felt wonderful. Like old times almost. Like her world hadn’t been upended all around her. By the time the two finished their late night work date, Brooke was feeling better about everything.
“So tell me more about your ideas for how this should go down,” Brooke prompted.
“Well, I was wondering… Do you have some friends who could participate too? It would be kind of fun to put you cougars up against us young cubs.”
“Hey, I’m not a cougar!”
Ligia winked. “Give it another few years.”
“Ha ha, very funny. So if we make this a competition what’s the prize for winning?”
“Hmm. Well, since it’s for charity, there’s no extra money, so what about instead of rewarding the winners, we punish the losers?”
“I don’t think that’s very—”
“I mean, they have to do volunteer work to help the charity… for like ten years or something?”
Brooke shook her head and laughed. “I like where you’re going with this, but ten years? By then your cubs will have turned into cougars themselves. And we probably shouldn’t call charity work a punishment. But let’s unwrap this idea a little and see what we can do with it.”
The promised hour sped by in a blur, but once it was up, Brooke felt so much better about—well—everything. Would all this be enough to save Vi’s job? To make Vi forgive her once and for all? To make things normal again?
“Go to bed,” Brooke said, turning back to her email. “You’ve earned it.”
“About time! I have to be up early tomorrow, you know. Meeting the girls at the Salt Lick to plan. I’ll send you pics, okay?”
Ligia gave her godmother a quick kiss on the cheek, then pranced up the stairs to her room.
Brooke spent another hour or so sorting through her emails, declining interview requests, and adding names to her ever-lengthening wait list. She had just finished explaining to Mrs. Haberdash that she just wouldn’t have the time to squeeze in her poodle’s birthday party, when a new email from an unknown sender popped into her inbox.
The sender’s email address was a garbled string of numbers and letters and the name was listed simply as “An Admirer.” The message read:
You spend too much time alone. It’s really too bad your husband doesn’t. Perhaps you aren’t the only woman he’s knocked up… Food for thought.
Brooke shuddered and quickly turned to search the room. Who was messing with her now, and how did he know she’d be checking her email at that exact moment? Was this the same person who’d tried to hurt Tiara? Most importantly of all, how did said person know Brooke was expecting when not even her own husband had that little piece of information yet?
She shut down her computer for the night, closed all the curtains and blinds, and crept up the stairs, careful not to wake Ligia who was already tossing and turning in her bedroom. It seemed neither of them felt safe tonight, but Brooke knew one way to give herself a bit of power back.
She switched on her bedside lamp then padded over to her closet and dug through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor—all items she’d outgrown in the past few weeks, thanks to baby on board—and found her safe.
Click, click, click.
She entered each number to the combination and then popped the door open to retrieve her trusty Lady Smith and Wesson, the same gun she’d used to kill the bad guy and cripple her best friend almost six weeks ago. Once the police had decided not to press charges and returned her revolver, she’d kept it locked up safe rather than carrying it in her purse as she’d always done before.
Tonight, though, she needed it close at hand if she was to get any sleep. That email had rattled her to the core.
But worse than that creepy message was the fact that the safe was completely empty.
Chapter Fourteen
Annabeth
Annabeth ran every day, but between school and the investigation she rarely got in more than a mile or two. Except on Wednesdays, which were her day off. That morning, she relished running the full five-mile circuit around the neighborhood. The muscles in her legs burned and her ch
est tightened, her lungs straining with each deep breath. She decided then and there that she was going to go cold turkey. There had to be a better way for her to manage her stress.
She and Marcus had been in full research mode all week. While she journeyed around town spying on Jesse’s wife and staking out the other businesses connected with the group, Marcus ran full background checks on both Jesse and Heather. It didn't take long for him to unearth some interesting details about the Abrahamsons.
Heather had become Senior Vice President after the birth of her second daughter. She worked sixty-plus hours a week and never seemed to actually eat. At least not as far as Annabeth had seen. No wonder the woman was like a size two. The couple had also tried to work with a marriage therapist, but hadn't gone long. Their stint in therapy coincided with some photos Marcus found of Heather and one of the other senior VPs—looking rather cozy. Had she been unfaithful? Did she sleep her way to the top? That might explain how she went straight from mid-level management to Senior VP in just a few years’ time. All these things ran through her mind as she pushed herself to pick up some speed.
A rush of endorphins kicked in and she sprinted the last half mile back to the house. Her breath came in short pants and beads of sweat ran down the side of her face. Hopefully, the natural runner’s high would help reduce the murderous impulses that came from lack of nicotine. She jogged all the way into the house, where she shucked off her stinky runners.
Marcus looked up at her from his makeshift desk in their living room. Scattered around him lay enough papers and post-it notes to open his own office supply store. A pair of reading glasses sat perched on the end of his nose making him look sexy as hell in a dirty librarian sort of way.
“Hey, babe.” She bit her bottom lip and smiled at all the dirty thoughts that flooded her mind.
Apparently his mind was too occupied with work. He gave her a cursory glance and got back to whatever it was he had been studying. “Hey, yourself.”
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